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Farmer of the Mind

by Chris Sorrenti

At the age of five
he knew dinosaurs;
called them out from illustration
as if they were his friends.
The amused asking
where are they now?
He pointed to the flocks of geese
northbound in the sky.

Planted seeds in all of us;
the stuff bridges are made of
and fertile have been his lessons:
how to fly
when to run
play dead
when an enemy holds the gun
take command of ourselves.

Years later
we thought him foolish
to teach his baby sister
the game of knight and queen.
That same child today
grown up
checkmates computer bugs.

Afraid to use our heads
ask the all important questions,
by reaching for what was inside himself
he then showed us how to corral dreams
turn dune into orchard.

At fifteen
he composed his first bouquet,
some of us laughing
at the unevenness of its petals,
but how we marvel now
at the beauty of our own,
afraid no more to plant our hearts
in endless fields of paper.

He has no diploma
save that of experience,
no religion
but what grows in common sense
all around;
ideas sprouting in profusion
from rich gray soil
encompassed in human skull.

© 1992
Revised © 2018

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Posted on 03/04/2018
Copyright © 2022 Chris Sorrenti

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